The Other Side
by Saphy
Summary: Minerva McGonagall is kidnapped by Voldemort to be a 'weapon' in the upcoming war. She now must confront her past and her own conflicted feelings or tread a path of self-destruction that will lead to the devestation of everything she ever knew. *5 up*
1. Prologue

Prologue – Reflection 

A/N: This part belongs to me.  The characters hinted about are J. K. Rowling's.  _Please note that this is the version beta-read by the wonderful Christina Teresa from the Sugar Quill.  It probably won't be changing again.  The same goes for the other chapters, except when otherwise noted.  Thanks for living by all these crazy changes!_

"_If I'm wise, I will walk away, and gladly...___

_ But sadly, I'm not wise. It's hard to talk away the memories...that you prize!_"

         ~ "In His Eyes"

             from Jekyll and Hyde

~*~

_     It is not our job to dwell upon the might-have-beens._

_     It is not our job to consider what could happen, or what might happen._

     Had you asked me that night whether I thought it could have ever happened, my answer would have been 'No'.  I don't believe anyone saw it coming.  But now as I look back, I see that it could have easily happened.  No, that isn't right.  It _had_ to happen.  Like attracts like.  Power is drawn to power.  Though I was the least prominent in the group, nevertheless, he realized my full potential for what it was.  But I'm talking like him now.  It should be, 'He saw what I had within me, and decided to use it.'  And, ever the great manipulator, he used me as he saw fit for his purposes, and many people were hurt because of it.

     How did he know?  I can't speak for him; only he can do that, and he's not here to plead his case.  I confess that I loved him a while back, but left him in terror and fury when he chose his path in life.  Was he using me then?  Did he know?  I don't think so, and for the life of me, I hope not.  But when he rose again, he made me one of his first targets.  Not to kill, but to wield as a sword, an ally at his side as he would have me.  Who would have known?  Everyone naturally assumed he would be out for revenge, but yet again, they underestimated him as they did when he first rose to power.  Perhaps that was my fault for not telling the others of my 'history' with him.  Certainly, some knew, but it obviously didn't come up in their minds.  As for myself, I had tried to forget it all, tried to deny the fact that it happened.  The young are foolish, they say.  But they have forgotten how foolish the old can be, as well.  For we are merely human, people living only to die later.  Still, I am glad to be alive today, though I feel I do not deserve it.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 – Disappearing**

A/N: Everything you recognize is J. K. Rowling's.  The plot is mine.  Enjoy this fic!

     She sighed as she set down a heavy stack of papers.  Glancing out of her window to the empty Quidditch field below, she silently counted the days before the students would be returning for the school year.

     "I wonder what the year will be like…" she murmured as her eyes slowly closed, cherishing those beloved moments of silence.

     "I don't doubt the school year will be as hectic as ever, if not worse," an amused voice said from the doorway.  Minerva quickly sat up and straightened herself.

     "Albus!  You know better than to startle me like that!" she chided as she straightened her desk.  "So what brings you here?  You don't usually come up to the tower."

     "Just checking up on you.  You haven't been out of this room for ages now," Albus replied, a twinkle in his eyes.

     "Let me guess.  You came in here to get me out of my comfortable little office?" Minerva replied wryly.  Albus smiled as he laid down a key with a note on her desk.

     "Go out.  Take a vacation for a week.  You'll come back, refreshed, and still have a week to prepare before the school opens for a year," Albus said.  She heard the finality in his voice, and sighed in defeat.

     The villa, situated on the outskirts of Athens, Greece, was beautiful.  Waves splashed against the ivory coast, at time almost splashing up to the walls of the villa itself.  Minerva stood on the balcony overlooking the bay, marveling at how perfect everything seemed.  "I should set up the Protection Shields," she said to herself as waves of exhaustion passed over her.  She hadn't really realized how tired she was until after reaching her destination.  Chuckling at the thought of Albus' expression if she ever told him that, Minerva turned around and walked back into the villa.

     "I don't have enough strength to set up the high-level barriers today," she said, glancing around the living room.  "I suppose I could set up the simple charms today and save the rest for tomorrow…it's only one day, right?"  Sighing miserably at the mere thought of 'necessary' slacking, she proceeded to set up the easier Protection Charms before collapsing in a chair.  This summer had been one of the hardest.  Forced to assume all of the duties at Hogwarts (which she, truth be told, didn't really mind) while Albus reinstated the Order of the Phoenix and coordinated his underground movements against the Dark Lord, as well as her own research projects for the Order, she had been drained by the time Albus had gently, but forcefully, pushed her to take this vacation.  Minerva glanced at the clock hanging upon the wall.

      "Eight o'clock already?  I should have a shower and go to sleep," Minerva grumbled as she forced herself out of the chair. 

~*~

      "Wormtail!  Is the Portkey ready?" Voldemort hissed angrily as Wormtail fumbled for the towel that was to serve as the Portkey for tonight.

      "It's ready, Master," Wormtail whimpered as he offered it to the Dark Lord.  Voldemort sneered.

      "I suppose you haven't forgotten the Timing Spell on it?" he hissed.  The cowering figure shook his head head quickly.  Voldemort's sneer twisted into a demonic smile.

      "Gather a group of three Death Eaters.  I don't care whom, just as long as they get the job done.  Understand?" Voldemort had gotten up and was pacing the floor.  Wormtail nodded and scampered off into the shadows.

     "_You can't run from me,_" Voldemort whispered, staring into the fireplace.

~*~

      "Must…sleep," Minerva mumbled as crawled into bed and shut off the lights, falling asleep immediately.

~*~

      "Goyle, what is your report?" Malfoy asked coldly.

      "All shields have been disabled.  She didn't even set up an Anti-Apparition Ward," Goyle answered, taking a quick look around.

      "You, Nott?" Malfoy asked, this time towards the man standing a few feet away.

      "All is clear," Nott replied, keeping an eye on the driveway.

      "Avery?" Malfoy turned to the rustling bushes.

      "No one but her, Malfoy.  What did the rat tell us to do?" Avery growled, brushing away a stray branch as he emerged.

      "Idiot!  Don't any of you ever listen?  We're to lie in wait and when the time comes, which should be in about two minutes, we go in.  We have three minutes to get in and assemble around her and the towel and then we should be transported to Voldemort.  Remember, she HAS to be touching the towel!  Any questions?"  Malfoy glared at the group assembled before him.

      "No sir," Goyle replied

      "Nope, we're all set," Nott muttered lazily.

      "Why are we doing this?" Avery wondered, glancing up at the bedroom window.

      "Hell if I know.  All I know is that the Dark Lord wants the witch.  That should be enough for you too, Avery.  All right, let's move in."

     The cloaked and masked Death Eaters stole through the empty villa like shadows, one by one creeping into the bedroom where their exhausted target lay.  They assembled by the bed, laying the towel lightly over her hand just as the Timing Charm activated the Portkey to carry them to Lord Voldemort.

~*~

      Minerva was jolted awake by the rude pulling of the Portkey.  Swirling colors met blurry eyes, as she felt herself drawn away swiftly.  A second later, she felt herself dumped onto a cold stone floor with a group of cloaked and masked figures surrounding her.  The cold, if nothing else, snapped her mind out of the dreamy haze to the reality of her situation.

      "Get up, woman," a rough voice growled at her.  She scrambled to her feet, wondering why her vision was so clear.  Glancing to the side, she saw the familiar frame of her spectacles blocking part of her vision.  So she had fallen asleep again with her glasses on.  _Foolish, foolish woman,_ she berated herself silently when a high, cold voice shook her out of her reverie.

        "Welcome, _Professor_ Minerva McGonagall, to my humble abode," the voice mocked, placing a stress on the word 'Professor' as if it were laughable.  Minerva reached for her wand when the cloaked figures stepped back, and she came face-to-face with Lord Voldemort himself.

      "You!" Minerva spat angrily.  Voldemort laughed coldly, but it quickly became anger when Minerva, with a soft _pop_, became a cat and ran for her life.  It was a foolish move, she knew, but with a little luck, she could get away.

      "_Petrificus Totalus_!_" someone yelled.  The curse hit her hard on the side and she crumpled, petrified.  A wand appeared out of nowhere and someone muttered words.  In no time, she was back to her original form.  Anger and desperation flowed through her as she struggled to be free of the curse, but to no avail._

      "Trying to run, Minerva?  Perhaps a lesson in obedience would serve you well," Voldemort said silkily, drawing his wand and pointing it at her with a sneer on his face.

      "_Crucio_!"

      A scream echoed through the night, and a mind-numbing silence ensued.

A/N: Yes, I placed her in the city dedicated to her namesake, or more correctly, the Greek counterpart to her namesake.  I thought it'd be rather befitting that she be there for a while, even if she never got to stay.  At any rate, please review!


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – Conversation**

A/N:  Everything you recognize is J. K. Rowling's.  The plot is mine.  Enjoy this fic!

     Harry was jolted from his sleep by the sudden burning of his scar.  He forced himself out of bed, realizing the urgency of the matter.  Grabbing out a quill and some parchment, he started to write, his quill flying across the surface quickly.  But as he was writing the letter to Sirius, Harry found it quite strange that there was no dream this time – only a pain-filled scream.  Shuddering at his own memory of the Cruciatus Curse, he continued to write furiously.

~*~ 

(Two Months later – October)

_     "Why won't you just join me?  It hurts me to see you like this," the cloaked figure said softly._

_     "Stop it!  You enjoy this, and we both know it!  If you really cared…then LET ME GO!" the woman bellowed angrily, straining at the end of her chains.  She was covered in shadow, making it hard to see whom it was._

_    "Always presuming," the figure spat, shooting a curse at the woman.  She screamed in rage, in pain, in agony…_

      Harry opened his eyes and stared at the clock.  It was only three in the morning.  Cursing softly at his bad luck, he forced himself out of bed, knowing fully that he would not be able to sleep longer.  His nightmares had gotten worse with each day that passed since he had first suffered through them two weeks before school had started.  Some days, he would wake up with a scream ringing in his ears, or he would catch a glimpse of a woman crumpled against a wall, or voices similar to that of torture but it was always the same woman.  Though he was worried about the dreams and for the unknown woman, he still had no idea what, or who, they were about.

      "I don't want to worry anyone right now; they all have more important things to worry about besides some pointless dream that I keep getting.  Besides, what would Malfoy and his pathetic gang of Slytherins think?" he muttered to himself as he descended the staircase to the Gryffindor common room.  Harry's decision had been made: he would not tell anyone about the dreams until he knew more.

     "Harry!  I didn't expect you to be up this early?  Did you finally decide to take your studies seriously this year?" someone asked from behind him.  Harry turned around and had to stifle a laugh when he saw Hermione, bounding down the stairs with an armload of books.

     "You don't actually _study_ at this time in the morning, do you?" Harry asked incredulously.  Although Hermione was a notorious bookworm, even she wouldn't be up at three in the morning studying…right?  Hermione shook her head, and he sighed with relief.  "So what are you doing up this early then?"

     "I'm looking through some books.  There's a question that's been nagging me for ages now, and since I couldn't sleep…" Hermione trailed off as she set the books down on a nearby table before facing Harry and continuing, "What are you doing up so early?"

     "I…um…couldn't sleep either," he lied.  At least it wasn't far from the truth.  Hermione seemed to notice this, but chose to not comment on this.

     "Well, since you're up, would you like to study with me?" she asked helpfully.  Harry nodded, grateful for any diversion at the moment, and they settled down to study.

~*~

     "Harry, have you gone bloody insane?" Ron exclaimed when he heard of the early morning studying.

     "I couldn't sleep, and I figured I might as well, since Hermione was there.  I did get help on that one essay for History of Magic, so it wasn't a complete waste of time," Harry said, rolling his eyes.  He had to admit, the idea of him studying before the sun rose was fairly ludicrous.  The dream, at least, had not harassed him there.

     "Just don't turn him into another you, okay?" Ron muttered to Hermione.  
  
     "RON!" Hermione yelled furiously.  For the next couple minutes, Ron ran around the suits of armor in the hallway in an effort to evade her.

     "Running around the halls?  Dear me, I do believe that would twenty points off each, and another ten points from Gryffindor for Potter not doing anything to stop this inappropriate behavior," a voice said silkily behind the group.  Harry whirled to find a triumphant Snape before them.  Ron and Hermione stopped in their tracks, glaring at Snape.  With a swish, Snape disappeared down the hallway.  Harry noticed their Potions professor appeared to have lost much sleep, but judging by his friends' anger, he didn't suppose they would care at the moment and left it at that.

     "I can't believe Snape did that!" Ron fumed, stomping down the hallway in the direction of the Transfiguration classroom, which happened 

to be their next class.

     "I wonder how Dumbledore teaches," Hermione looked thoughtful as they traipsed into class not a moment too soon.

     "Welcome back!  I will be your Transfiguration professor this year, as Professor McGonagall is on sabbatical.  This year will most likely be one of the most important years in your young lives.  Can anyone tell me why?  Ah, yes, Mr. Finnigan?" Dumbledore asked leisurely. 

   "You-Know-Who rose again!" Seamus exclaimed.  The class burst into laughter.

     "Very true, Mr. Finnigan, although I would ask you to call him Voldemort-", and here everyone flinched, "-next time.  Anyone know the academic reason?  I do believe Professor McGonagall stressed the importance of these last year…" Dumbledore said, with a twinkle in his eye.  Hermione's hand shot up.  "Miss Granger?"

     "The O.W.L.s, or Ordinary Wizarding Levels, are this year," Hermione said calmly.

     "That's correct, Miss Granger.  Five points for Gryffindor.  Now, as we have examinations coming up in spring, it is necessary that we start right now!  So, as review, let us see how well you can transfigure a toad into a rabbit!  Come up and get your toads after you are paired up," Dumbledore said, striding to the corner to retrieve the toads. 

     The class was, for the most part, surprising.  There was something about Dumbledore when he taught that just made the subject click instantly to the point that it even allowed a usually-nervous Neville to transfigure his toad correctly the first time.  Dumbledore, obviously, had been so impressed that he had a little demonstration at the end of class of some of the things they themselves would learn by the end of the year.

     "Wow, that was amazing!" Ron exclaimed, returning his toad to the cage at the end of class.  
  


     "I didn't know you could do that," Harry replied, thinking of the controlled partial transfigurations and how the Headmaster had changed the rabbit's ears to antlers, the fluffy tail to that of a dog's, and the color of the rabbit to an interesting shade of blue.

     "If you two bothered to do any reading over the summer, you could have found it in Chapter Twenty-three of the book," Hermione said, bustling past them.  Ron followed her out of the classroom, but Harry paused for a moment, wondering if he should tell Dumbledore of his rapidly worsening dreams.

     "Harry?" Ron asked, poking his head through the doorway.  
  


     "Coming," Harry said, glancing once more at the Headmaster before leaving.

~*~

     His mind was spinning as he stared at the empty cauldron blankly.  His lack of sleep had been taking its toll lately as he struggled to focus on the chalkboard that seemed miles away.  
  
  


     "A pinch of the powder, remember!  Now get to work," Snape snapped disdainfully, although with less scorn than usual.  Harry pondered the possible reasons for a moment before he was rudely jabbed in the ribs by Ron.  
  
  


     "Harry?  You okay?" Ron whispered, handing Harry some putrid-smelling root to shred.  Harry swallowed slowly and held his breath as he picked apart the root with distaste, trying hard to suppress the bile rising in his throat.

     "Fine," Harry said lightly, clenching his teeth at the rapidly spinning room.  His hands shook as he dumped the root into the cauldron before slipping away from the conscious world.

~*~

     A figure lay crumpled against the wall in what appeared to be an empty holding cell.  She was chattering her teeth; her breath was coming out in short huffs.  Tangled hair covered her face neatly, hair that had been streaked with blood, dirt, and tears.  The torn remnants of a nightgown were all that covered her dangerously thin body.  She looked so frail that she might break if someone touched her.

    "So cold," she whispered through blue-tinged lips.  The cold was indeed almost unbearable, stinging fiercely all over, particularly on a certain jagged area on the forehead.

     A strong light suddenly shone into the dark cell and Harry turned, squinting, to meet the figure at the doorway.  His eyes widened when the figure moved in, revealing none other than Lucius Malfoy.  Harry jumped and stumbled back at a fit of coughing from behind as the elder Malfoy strode to the figure. 

    "Worthless scum.  You're lucky Voldemort has plans for you, or else I would have gone even further.  As it is, I can only play with you, woman," Malfoy said distastefully.  A low hissing noise could be heard from the figure.  Malfoy laughed sardonically, sending a chill down Harry's spine… 

     Dim moonlight poured into the darkened room from the large inlaid window.  Nauseated, Harry forced himself up and grabbed his glasses from a side table.  The image his eyes beheld sharpened; he could make out the familiar red and gold decorations in the dorm room.  Sounds of snoring could be heard from adjoining beds.  Harry sighed, the memory of the disastrous Potions lesson coming back to him in a rush.  In front of Malfoy, of all things!  Harry was about to die from embarrassment when twelve tolls of the bell from the grandfather clock below told him the time.  His first thought was to head back to sleep.  Regardless of how much the dreams taunted him, he had managed to obtain some much-needed sleep between fainting in the dungeons and the latest vision.  His stomach growled noisily.  When had he last eaten?" Breakfast seemed so far away.  Drowsy, Harry gradually fell back into a troubled slumber.  

~*~

     _There was screaming.  A woman was twitching on the ground, surrounded by robed figures.  Voldemort stood in the center, yelling "Crucio!"  And then, there was a flash._

_     It was the same woman, but her robes were torn and bloody, her wrists loosely bound to the wall with manacles.  A crimson-stained whip lay nearby, before the room flashed again._

_    A frail figure, covered in shadow, lay limp across the floor.  A heaving cough shook her body violently as a robed figure entered the room.  A foot nudged the body upon the floor before delivering a swift kick into her stomach, sending the weak woman into another coughing fit, but this time there was the familiar crimson shade of blood.  There was another flash of light…_

     …And Harry found himself staring into haunted gray eyes.

     "Pro…Professor McGonagall?" Harry whispered.  A weak smile flashed across the weary teacher's face.

     "I trust you are doing well in school?" she asked hoarsely.  Harry nodded numbly, quickly looking around him before going back to Professor McGonagall.  It was a prison cell, damp and cold.  His professor didn't look any better, with her torn and filthy nightgown and the cuts and bruises that he could see upon her face and hands.  Her hair was down from its usual bun, falling in a tangled mess down her back.  In short, she looked horrible.

     "Are…are you okay, Professor?" he asked shakily.  There was a pause.

     "For the moment," she said, shuddering as if an invisible threat lay above her before her face cleared, looking like the Transfiguration teacher Harry remembered.

     Harry nodded, still thinking of the flashes he had seen before.  It was obvious that McGonagall was the woman in all of the dreams he had seen, but a question rested on his mind.  Out of curiosity, he asked, "Why did they do all that other stuff besides the Cruciatus Curse?  Don't they usually use only that while…torturing?"

     "Harry, they don't just want to torture me.  They want to use me on their side as a 'pawn'.  They believe I will be an asset to their side.  Right now, they're trying to weaken me in any way they can, in the hopes that eventually I will be too weak to fight back, so that they can twist me into whatever they need.  I can't resist them much longer because…well, because I guess you can say they know my weakness.  Or perhaps more accurately, _he_ always thought he…well, you understand, right?" she asked before descending into another coughing fit.  Harry nodded mutely when she had finished coughing.

     "I have some messages to pass on," she started.  Harry nodded and she continued, "Tell whoever has taken over my class that in my bottom right-hand drawer, behind all the books, is my lesson plan for the year.  Now, don't start, Potter.  Yes, I plan my lessons for the year during the summer.  Tell Professor Lupin I send my congratulations for getting the job again.  Tell Professor Dumbledore to tell the Order that I cannot hold out much longer, and that I'm sorry I disappointed him.  And lastly, should anyone, including you, see me outside of this wretched place, tell them to kill me immediately," she said quietly, closing her eyes for a brief moment.  

    "I will not kill you," Harry said adamantly.  Minerva looked surprised and annoyed.

    "Harry, you _must_ kill me.  Heaven forbid that I accidentally kill _you_ – I don't want to face that.  Please."

     "Professor, if you can tell me where you are, then we could get you out and you wouldn't have to kill yourself," he said, taking a step back. 

     "By the time you reach me, it will be too late!  You will have to kill me then!" Minerva said urgently.  
  


     "Just tell me, Professor McGonagall!  We'll get here in time and we can forget it all…" Harry said.  There was so much hope in his eyes.  It broke her heart to see that trust in her…especially when she no longer trusted herself.

     "Please, Harry, don't push me on this," she murmured wearily.

     "Professor-" Harry started to protest.

     "Do what I say, Potter!" she demanded forcefully.  Harry shook his head mutely.

     Minerva's eyes glinted strangely as she stood and strode in front of Harry, reaching out and grasping his face forcefully.  Harry's eyes widened in shock as he tried to step back, but she was surprisingly strong despite her condition.  "Why don't I put it this way?  Don't do as I say, and one day you'll wake up to find the Gryffindor common room freshly painted in your friends' blood!  Would you like that?  It seems that you do, the selfish brute that you are," she hissed coldly.  He stared into her face, surprised at her sudden change in behavior; it frightened him even more to see the madness and the cruel ruthlessness in her eyes, across her face.

     "Professor McGonagall?" Harry asked shakily.  Minerva blinked and then gasped when she realized what she had done.  Releasing him hastily, she backed up against the wall, trembling.

"Oh God, oh God, what did I do…I'm sorry, forgive me, forgive me…leave, Harry, before I do something else…please…" she whispered.  Harry nodded mutely before he found the room spinning into darkness.

~*~

     "_Harry!  Wake up, Harry!_"  

    It was Ron's voice.  Harry's eyes flew open.  Around him stood Ron and Hermione, looking extremely worried.

     "What's wrong?  You wouldn't wake up after we yelled at you, shook you a bit, poked you, said that your broom had been stolen – " Hermione started.

     "MY BROOM IS WHAT!?!?!" Harry yelled, leaping out of bed in alarm.  It was all Hermione and Ron could do to keep him from running out to the broom shed in his pajamas.

     "Hold your horses!  It isn't actually stolen, although it worked wonders in trying to get you out of bed," Ron muttered as Harry sat down on his bed again.

     "I had a weird dream, only it wasn't really a dream…" Harry started to tell them about how he saw the flashes and then the conversation with McGonagall, careful to leave off the end.  The trio sat in silence for a while after that.

     "We need to tell Dumbledore and pass on the message," Hermione said worriedly, breaking the silence. Ron and Harry nodded and after quickly changing into their school robes, they headed to Dumbledore's office.

A/N: See, it wasn't a _major_ cliffhanger!  I sincerely hoped you enjoyed this story.  Please review!


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 – Reaction 

A/N: Many thanks to my reviewers; I love you all muchly!  As usual, the Harry Potter universe and all associated characters belong to J.K. Rowling.  The twisted idea for this story, as well as the actual story, is mine.

~*~

     Breathless, they dashed through the still-empty hall, their robes tossed on haphazardly in their haste. They had been running so fast that Ron had to yank on Harry's robes just to get him to stop when they reached the stone gargoyle that led to Dumbledore's office.   
  
     "Anyone know the password?" Hermione asked breathlessly, looking at the two boys for information. Harry and Ron shrugged. Neither had thought of this small detail.   
  
     "Boys," Hermione sighed hopelessly and muttered, "Sugar Quills." The gargoyle disappeared; the familiar staircase now faced the trio. The boys gaped at Hermione.  
  
     "Come on! We can't sit here all day," she said, exasperation in her voice as she pushed past them and began to climb the flight of stairs. Harry followed mutely, dragging Ron up.   
  
     The door was already open when the three reached Dumbledore's office. Cozy as always, they scurried in to where the Headmaster was standing by the window.   
  
     "Professor Dumbledore? I...I had a really strange dream, except that it wasn't really a dream at all," Harry said, wringing his hands. Dumbledore turned around.   
  
     "A dream that wasn't a dream? Please, sit down and explain. Miss Granger, Mr. Weasely, you are more than welcome to remain here if you wish," Dumbledore said seriously. They seated themselves and accepted a lemon drop before Harry began to speak. He spoke of the dreams he had been having since the week before school started and how they had gradually worsened until last night, where he had met with Professor McGonagall.   
  
     When he got to the point where he was to pass along her messages to Dumbledore, Harry paused for a moment.  Her 'transformation' had been nothing short of frightening, but he wasn't sure whether it was right to speak of it in front of his friends; he wasn't sure how they would react if they found out he had neglected to tell them something earlier.

      "Harry?" Ron whispered.  

     Harry took a deep breath and went on.  "She said that her lesson plans for the year were in the bottom right-hand drawer of her desk, behind some books.  She congratulated Professor Lupin for getting the Defense Against the Dark Arts position again, and…and she said she was sorry for everything…"  he trailed off into silence.

      "Ah, so that's where her lesson plans are.  The entire year," Dumbledore said, eyes dancing in amusement.  The good mood did not last.  Dumbledore turned to Ron and Hermione, saying, "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, do you mind going into the Great Hall and asking Professor Snape to come up to my office immediately?  You may go and eat your breakfasts afterwards," Dumbledore said.  Hermione nodded stiffly, grabbing Ron's wrist and dragging him out after her.  Harry had to suppress a laugh as they descended the stairs.

     "Mr. Potter?  Is there anything you would like to add to your account?"

      Harry looked up at Dumbledore and wondered how he knew, only to boggle at his own stupidity a half moment later.  _Of course he knows!  He's Dumbledore!_ he said inwardly, but outwardly, he nodded slightly to the Headmaster.  "She…was asking me to kill her if I ever saw her again, but I refused over and over, and then suddenly, she changed.  She started to threaten me and wasn't at all like the normal Professor McGonagall," Harry added, uncomfortable with the words he had said about his former Head of House.  Dumbledore considered quietly for a moment before the door was flung open and an irate Snape came stomping into the room.  
  
  


      "Ahh, Severus!  It's a pleasure to see you…will you please sit?  Harry has some interesting news to share," Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eye.  Snape eyed Harry with distaste before selecting the chair farthest away from the boy.  Harry recounted his dream a third time, surprised at how much easier it was to speak now.  He noticed Snape flinch when he described some of the tortures McGonagall had been through, but it was clear he was familiar with that had happened.  Curious and startled by Snape's odd reaction, Harry hastily rushed through the rest of the story as fast as he could, not taking a breath until the end.   
  
  


     "Don't kill yourself telling us about your _fascinating_ dream, Potter.  On the other hand, be my guest," Snape sneered.  Dumbledore shot Snape a warning look.

     "Thank you, Harry.  Do you have any questions?" Dumbledore said to Harry.  

     Harry thought for a moment, recalling something strange about the entire situation.  "Professor McGonagall said that Voldemort wanted to 'use' her or something.  But why her?" Harry asked quietly.  Dumbledore sighed.

     "I will start by saying that this question is something I normally would not answer.  In truth, it is Professor McGonagall's right to explain if she chose to do so, and I know she probably wouldn't explain it to you, or anyone else who asked her, and so I will not right now.  Rest assured that I _will_ tell you when the time is right, however," Dumbledore said seriously, glancing at Harry.  He nodded, not entirely sure he wanted to hear the truth anymore.

     "Professor, can I go back to class?" Harry asked.  Dumbledore, with the twinkle in his eyes back once again, nodded.  Harry left quickly, seeking refuge from the rapidly worsening glares from Snape.  Dumbledore sighed inwardly before looking at Snape, who had since relaxed a bit more.

     "Severus, I need you to tell me what you've seen of her.  I trust Minerva's judgment, but Harry's news worries me about her well-being," Dumbledore said grimly as he faced Snape after Harry had departed.

     "Something is wrong about her, about this entire situation.  I'm not sure what it is, but Voldemort has taken an interest in her far beyond 'just information'.  I can't confirm what Potter said about his true intents, but they aren't just trying to extract information.  Some of the others tell me that they've been taking liberties with her and that usually doesn't happen, since it isn't customary for Death Eaters to do so, since even Death Eaters find such behavior distasteful normally…" Snape trailed off uncomfortably.   
  
  


     Dumbledore's eyes turned hard and his fist was clenched tightly as he took a few moments to recompose himself before he trusted himself to say anything.  "I…I see.  That will be all for now, Severus.  I'm sorry for calling you from your breakfast," he murmured, turning to his Pensieve in the corner.  Snape nodded and left silently, his robes billowing down the stairs.

     The Pensieve was blank for a moment before the colors blurred together to form a still picture within.

     "Minerva, why did you ever run off with him?" Dumbledore whispered sorrowfully, staring at an image of a young couple: a dark-haired witch with piercing gray eyes and a raven-haired wizard with gleaming ruby eyes.

A/N: Gee, can you figure out who those two are?  I'm going back to Minerva in the next part, which promises to be entirely too angsty and very conversational, I believe.  I've even started writing it already!  Aren't you proud of me?  As usual, please review…I'll even give you cookies or something!


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: I'm terribly sorry for making you all wait so long!  It's been very hectic lately.  So, yes, I do hope dearly that you read and enjoy this beautiful little piece, because it has caused me much grief ^_~.  Thank you to all who took the time to review this; it has inspired me immensely.  Keep reviewing!  And now, I bring to you…the next chapter!

Chapter 4: Confrontations 

It is a prison that I live in.  Not a prison held by chains or walls, although the bonds are just as strong.  No, it is stronger.  I can break out of walls and chains, but myself?  I, who am my worst enemy, my best friend?  I am given no guard, no jailer, for I am all of those things.  I see the sun from my little window outside.  I see the bright blue sky and the puffy clouds.  I want to get out, but I cannot.  My soul is bound to this labyrinth of nightmares, my heart to Evil Incarnate.  I've tried fighting it, but like a weed, it keeps coming back.  I cannot run forever.  He comes. He comes.  And when he does, I must be ready.  _Will_ I ever be ready?

I hear the pounding on the door of the cell, and suddenly I have a sinking feeling that once they come to take me to him, I will have passed the point of no return.

~*~

"You came."

"I had to," Minerva replied curtly.

"If you had been given a choice, would you have come?" Voldemort asked quietly.

She stared at him for a moment before replying.  "Yes."

His back remained towards her as he set down his silver goblet on the bookshelf he faced, murmuring in a voice she could barely hear, "If I were to make the same offer I made to you years ago, would you accept it?"

"No," she replied swiftly.

"Tell me, why do you keep this charade up?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.  
  


"What charade?"

He turned around to face her, his wand twirling idly in his fingers.  "Don't lie to me, Minerva.  I know what you desire the most," he replied, staring at her, staring straight into her soul.

She looked up swiftly; her eyes were hard and unreadable.  "You have no idea what I want.  You have no idea how I think.  You have no idea at all," she said in low voice, enunciating each word clearly.  
  


"Don't I?" Voldemort asked silkily.  She drew in air through clenched teeth, trying to control her emotions.  Having elicited the response he desired, Voldemort went on, "You want to prove yourself, do you not?  You want to show the world that when they said you couldn't, you did.  Revenge, Minerva…you desire that, do you not?"

Minerva's eyes flickered briefly.  "Nothing so petty," she said in a tone of venomous sweetness.

"Enlighten me.  If all those times you fought for the highest grades in your class, all those times you fought with tooth and claw for the better positions, if they weren't for anything as 'petty' as what I've said…then what was it all for?" he taunted.

"I wanted to do well," she snapped.  
  


"There is always a _reason_ to excel, isn't there?" Voldemort asked.

She remembered entering Hogwarts, arrogant and prideful.  Her parents had always assured her that she would do well, but despite those words, she had quickly become disillusioned with herself.  In her classes, she found it difficult to break even, harder even to rise above the rest.  While she was willing to devote her time, her life even, to being the best, secretly, she felt that she was nothing more than a failure.  Her classmates had enjoyed teasing her about her perpetual studying habits.  For them, it had been lighthearted in intent, such as the friendly jokes that pass back and forth between good friends.  For her, it had become a nightmare.  It was only her pride and her stubbornness that prevented her from admitting that she had a fault, that she had a problem.  Resentment turned to anger, and then to a bitter hate and a fierce determination to prove to herself, and to the world, that she didn't have a 'problem', as they so phrased it.  She would not back down; she would rise above the rest and show them that she knew what she was doing.  

Since then, she had set out to prove that claim.  She had become first a prefect, then captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, then Head Girl of her year, before she had entered the Ministry under the Department of Mysteries; and then a teaching job at Hogwarts before becoming Deputy Headmistress.

"I wanted to do well," she repeated stubbornly.

"You are a more powerful witch than even Dumbledore will ever realize.  You have the potential to be even greater than you are now, and I'm offering to you that chance to _really_ show the world that you are strong.  Are you really that blind to turn the offer of power and prestige down?" he asked lazily.

She eyed him warily.  "The price is too high."  
  
"You've done it before, Minerva. You've played the game before.  What's one more game?" Voldemort asked as he moved towards her.  
  


"No…I won't…I have nothing…to prove," Minerva stumbled back.  Her head was spinning rapidly and every breath was quickly becoming excruciatingly painful; her lissome figure swayed as she stumbled back.  He moved quickly to catch her before she could tumble back and guided her to a freestanding mirror opposite the bookshelves.  He waited until she was able to stand on her own two feet before pointing to the mirror with one hand, placing the other upon her shoulder to make sure she didn't suddenly lose her balance again.

"Look in it.  What do you see?"

Minerva steadied herself before looking into the clear, smooth surface of the mirror.

"I see myself," Minerva replied flatly.

Voldemort shoved her nearer to the mirror.  "Look closer."

Her eyes flickered to the mirror's surface.  She stared at it for a moment, confused, before the image began to contort slowly to form an image that frightened Minerva.

"What…what is the meaning of this?" she demanded, staring at the mirror in a horrified fascination.  
  


"Who you are beneath the surface," he replied in a soft voice.  She stared at her image, her mirror image…her true image?  She could recognize herself, but she seemed more refined, more elegant, more icy.  Her eyes gleamed with hidden knowledge and unfathomable mists, and her mere presence commanded one's attention.  Strength radiated around her; it was oddly sinister and dark.  She tore her eyes off to face Voldemort with a defiant look

"Liar," Minerva hissed.

"I lie to no one," Voldemort replied coldly.

"You lie to everyone," she snarled, her fist clenched tightly.

"Then you are a fool not to believe the mirror.  Remember your young visitor," he said coolly.  She froze and shook her head numbly.

"Think on it," he said in a solemn voice, whisking out of the room soundlessly.

"It can't be true…can it?" Minerva whispered.  Her nerves and her mind badly shaken, she stumbled out of the room.  She didn't notice the Death Eaters ushering her back to the cell, didn't notice it at all until the door slammed shut behind her.

She stared at her cell blankly, and then at her bruised and battered self.  All of a sudden, she began to laugh.  It was soft at first, but it quickly became a hysterical laugh before the ground shifted beneath her feet.  Her head hit the ground, and then the world was black.

A/N: Wow, you're still reading?  Did you like it, or did you think otherwise?  Your questions, comments, and critique are always welcomed. 


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: Whee, it's a new part!  Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!  As always, please read and review…it would make me happy ^____^.  Thanks goes out to Juno, who encouraged me to write like a madwoman and helped me with the illogical fallacies of the original plot.  And to every reviewer out there – you rock my world.  Seriously. **Chapter 5 – Pain ** "I wake from a nightmare now 

_ In the day it haunts me_

_ It slowly tears me apart_

_ With dreams of a distant love_

_ I'm a wandering satellite…"_

    --from 'Spirit Dreams Inside', L'Arc-en-Ciel 

~*~

     With his cloak billowing dramatically behind him, Professor Severus Snape strode down the narrow corridor of the dungeon, armed with his most terrifying glare.  He stopped abruptly in front of a barred door and studied it carefully for a moment, hesitating, before making up his mind to enter.  After a glance around the hallway to make sure no one else was in the area, he removed his mask and hood before slipping into the room.

     He cracked the door open silently and slunk in before closing the door and turning to face the woman standing upon the bench; her face was lifted with a distant expression to the tiny, barred window on the wall.  As soon as the door closed, the woman spun around and leapt with a feral grace to the ground; something, he was pleased to note, that didn't surprise him at all.  

     "Even Godric Gryffindor wasn't so stupidly honorable to stay in an unguarded prison," Severus commented as he leaned casually against the door.

     "Then it's a shame, because he's missing a _great view," Minerva replied sardonically.  Severus viewed her critically; there was something wrong about the way she was acting.  Indeed, she had a sharp wit and a dry sense of humor, of which he had often been the victim of, but the bitterness he heard now hadn't been there before._

     "What do you think of Voldemort and his merry group of Death Eaters?"  Snape crossed his arms, watching for her reaction.

     Minerva sighed and began to pace the room slowly.  "It's too much…too much…"

     "Does it have something to do with your past?" Snape asked.  Minerva spun around, alarmed, before her face shifted into an expressionless mask

     "How do you know about that?" she asked flatly.

     "Albus said something about it."  Suddenly, the conversation didn't seem like such a good idea.

     Minerva, who hadn't been aware that she had been holding her breath, now let it out in a low hiss.  "What did he say?"

     "Only that it had something to do with you and Lord Voldemort in the past."

     She relaxed slightly.  "I see," she said in a soft voice.

     Severus studied her closely.  It was abnormal to see the usually calm and collected professor so tense and frightened.  _Upon second thought, he mused, __she's been in a prison over the past couple of months; people change when something like that happens.  Still, she is hiding something, so what is it?_

     "Was there something else you wanted, or are you here to just sit and stare at me?" Minerva asked, crossing her arms.  

    Snape took a deep breath.  "Tell me what happened between you and Voldemort."

    The room seemed to drop a few degrees in temperature during the tense silence that followed.  "There is a reason why no one knows about that."

    He clenched his jaw tightly, and hissed, "I cannot hope to help you until you tell me, Minerva!"

    She glared daggers at him, but he ignored them without a second glance.  She continued to pace back and forth across her cell, as if she were wrestling inside herself.  He watched her with a growing nervousness, almost feeling as if they had moved back in time to when he had been a student and she a teacher.  Was the explanation really so difficult that she would be so reluctant to say anything?  Finally, she broke the silence with a soft sigh.

    Minerva looked strained as she ceased to pace and faced him.  "I had the chance to be the Dark Lord's consort.  I almost accepted his offer once," she said softly.

    Severus found himself unable to reply for a couple of minutes.  He had not been expecting _that answer, and from the bitter smile on Minerva's lips, he could tell that she had known it too.  It brought a whole new dimension to the woman who stood defiantly before him, but as he placed her under his careful scrutiny, he wondered why he hadn't seen it before.  Had it not been for the Gryffindor label he had typically placed upon her, she could have been an almost ideal match to the Dark Lord, and useful as a balance to his power.  She was proud, powerful, brilliant, and perceptive enough to see society from a detached perspective.  She had the logic to deduce things that most couldn't, and the shrewdness to manipulate things into her favor if necessary.  It was everything Voldemort prized; why wouldn't he have sought after her?_

     "Why did you turn away the first time?" Snape asked.

     "I don't know.  Maybe it was because it felt wrong, or maybe it was because I was just frightened; whatever it was, it doesn't matter anymore.  I went to Dumbledore that day, years after I had become estranged from him to elope with Tom, and he took me in as his successor.  The matter of my past was completely forgotten in his eyes, as if I were starting anew.  I couldn't forget, though.  I couldn't just…forget…him," Minerva trailed off uncomfortably.

     Snape nodded and said in a low voice, "Every time you look in the papers, he's there.  Every time you listen in on someone's conversation, he's mentioned.  Every time you look at a student, you think of how that person was affected by his actions.  He's everywhere and nowhere at all.  People still fear him, and it just makes it worse." 

    Minerva wrapped her arms around her tightly.  "I hear of what he's done, and I don't know what to think.  I know that Tom is Voldemort, but it doesn't seem like that.  He was decent and loving and kind, and...and even though he lied to me in the end...he loved me, he loved me…   I don't know…I can't…but…" Minerva slammed her hand against the wall viciously.

     "Is the promise of power too much for the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts?" Snape asked, eyeing her carefully.

     There was nothing friendly about Minerva's smile.  "Power, love, respect, revenge, and recognition, rather.  He offers me much, much more than anyone else ever could," she whispered, as if she were in a trance.  Snape took a deep breath; how could someone like her even do this?  She, the moral champion, the righteous matron?

     "Surely you do not believe he will actually live up to his promises?  This is not Tom Marvolo Riddle, Minerva.  This is Lord Voldemort. He does not forgive.  He does not forget.  You turned away from him once.  What makes you think he will give you that again?" Snape pressed.

     He saw her crumbling as she turned away from his steady gaze, her mask slipping away for a moment.  There was confusion and fear in her eyes, an air of vulnerability surrounding her beaten self.  She took a step forward, faltered, and fell to her knees, defeated.  "Minerva?" he asked, alarmed.

     "Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?" Minerva asked flatly.

     "No.  I'll come by to visit later," Snape replied, taking a deep breath before leaving.  Too much had just happened in that room.  He wasn't even sure what had just happened, but whatever it was, he would not be told today.  Donning his mask once again and putting up his hood, Severus strode down the hallway and out of the Dungeons.  The Headmaster – would he know what to do?

      Minerva stared at the door as it slammed shut in her face, unable to speak or move.  Unbidden, a memory rose from the murky depths to haunt her.

_     Sitting at a chessboard on Christmas Day with Tom.  A long game, lots of butterbeer passed around._

_     "Pawn to F1.  Queen her, will you?" Tom asked, flipping over the hourglass deftly._

_     Minerva rolled her eyes as she nicked the black pawn and replaced it with the Queen.  "Bishop to A2.  Anyone ever tell you that you're absolutely brutal?"_

_     Tom's finger lifted his new Queen and moved it with a grin, but didn't let go of the piece.  "Actually, someone called me 'bloody brutal' once.  That count?"_

_     "Close enough.  Hurry up and make your move, will you?" Minerva said, laughing softly._

_     "Are you sure?"_

_     "Yes.  You're making me nervous."_

_     "And you have every right to be.  Queen to D3.  Checkmate!"  Tom flashed a big smile._

_     "What?!  That can't be right…oh, whatever.  You win, you win…"_

     _Well, you won again, didn't you?_

     "I have no choice…no choice at all," Minerva whispered.  She blinked away the tears that threatened to fall, but it was no use; they fell mercilessly, hot burning tears of shame and misery.

     And she cried for what she had been, what she would be, and for all of the dreams that would never come true.

~*~

     "You have something to tell me?" Voldemort asked mildly as he faced her, sitting against the wall with a blank expression.  Minerva glanced at him for a long time.  Once she did this, there would be no turning back.  There would be no second chances…not for this, no.   She whispered a silent apology to the others.  To Dumbledore.  To Snape.  To Harry, and all her Gryffindors…all her students.  To herself for embarking on this path from which the only reward was absolute power or death.  She took a step towards Voldemort and hesitated.

     _Is the promise of power too much for the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts?_

     His words echoed in her head.  It wasn't just power, was it? No, it was the promise of finally ending her torment...revenge and love in one sweet package.  Bittersweet, but still sweet.

     "I accept…My Lord," Minerva whispered softly, kneeling before him.

     "Welcome, my dearest, my queen," he whispered, lifting her up gently until she was standing.  "The throne awaits."     

     _"…for either way you choose you cannot win…you've passed the point of no return…"_

~*~

A/N: Wow, I'm mean and lazy.  Flame me now!  The last quote comes from the song "Down Once More…/Track Down This Murderer", which is from _Phantom of the Opera_.  It's actually the conclusion song of the entire musical, so I suggest you not listen to it unless you wish to spoil it for yourself.  There is an alternate version of this chapter available to be read, which I have placed up on ff.net as the 'next' chapter.  Go read!


	7. Alternate Chapter 5

A/N: This is the alternate version of this chapter, which brings you slightly behind where the first (and original) version leaves off, but it puts the story in a different perspective – Minerva's.  It has a little too much introspection and "deep thought", I felt, for it to serve as an actual part of the story, but I do like this ending more; however, it would have been difficult to connect this ending with the former story's beginning.  Please note that the events that happen in this version are slightly different, but they are mostly the same.  I tried to clarify Snape's intent here, as well as Minerva's.  

     Feel free share your thoughts though – I'd love to know which one you prefer!  And yes, this is an ff.net exclusive, since I highly doubt the other servers, while wonderful, would like me doing such a thing.  So therein ends my rant.  The quote and author note on the former, in case you are curious, actually was meant for this version, so I have left it in.  Thank you again, everyone!

Chapter 5 – alternate version 

~*~

     Her head hurt.  Her body ached.  She struggled to sit up, her milky-white hands gripping the slimy floor unsteadily as she felt the blood rush from her head.  As soon as the room had stopped spinning around her, she risked a look around.  In front of her was a heavy stone slab on hinges, which served as the door, and all around her stood thick, unforgiving walls.  A shudder ran down her spine as she remembered how her old Potions class had been.  Compared to the present-day classroom, hers had been completely inhospitable and every bit as cold as the teacher who had owned it.

     But it was the shaft of light, shining through the tiny, barred window at the top that drew her attention.  From her lonely cell, she could barely spot the clear, blue sky, but the quick glimpse struck her heart deeply, like a glance at a friend who has not been seen for many a year.  How she longed to run outside and savor the vast azure pool above her and enjoy the warming rays of the sun!  Indeed, she had not realized until now how much she truly missed the outside world.  Closing her eyes, she thought back to her days at Hogwarts; it all seemed so distant now, just a passing dream that she had risen from to meet a brutal world.  A world with pain, death, and Voldemort at the center of it all; Voldemort who had taken her from her comfortable world and held her in this miserable place; Voldemort who had brought her out and tempted her with his offer;  Voldemort who had been her lover once…

     _Oh, snap out of it.  You know perfectly well that you can't accept it, no matter how much it would appeal to you to be with him again.  It's over…has been over…since the day you left him.  He doesn't want you anymore, no, only your power.  He doesn't love you anymore…right?_

     The meeting played itself over and over again in her head, and the doubts she had about what he had said came rushing back to her in a deluge.  She seized her head in a panic as her pulse began to race, and she began to shake uncontrollably.  "No…please, no…leave me alone…get out…I don't want to hear your empty promises or your deceiving words…you liar!"  Her voice gradually grew in volume to match the growing crescendo of his words, repeating over and over in her mind before dying down into a tense silence.

     In her mind, she saw herself; she saw the mirror's reflection once again, and illuminated by a ghastly shade of green, it was almost as if she had risen from the bowels of Hades to rule with Death himself as his promised Consort.  A world, devastated by war, could be seen in the background, and corpses littered the barren plains as far as the eye could see.

     _A sibilant voice, hissing in her head: This is who you are beneath the flesh.  This is your fate, your destiny._

     "This isn't me.  This won't happen.  I…I won't let it happen…"

     "_Minerva?_"  Loud footsteps echoed through the cell as if from the shadows, a sallow-faced man emerged.

     She jerked wildly, peering out from crazed eyes at the intruder.  "Who's there?"

      The apparition blurred again, but when it spoke, there was no mistaking the familiar sneer, although she was sure it wasn't intended.  "Who do you think?  It's Severus.  How are you feeling?"

     A jolt of annoyance ran through her brain.  How was she feeling?  How else would she be feeling under these conditions?  Instead, she exercised her practiced self-restraint and forced herself to smile.  "A little worse for the wear, but I'm still in one piece."

     "You're not and we both know it."  He fixed a glare upon her.  "You need to get out of here.  You…don't look well."

     Pain, and then rage, flooded through her frail body.  She knew she should accept his aid, knew he was right, but there was that irrational thought – the fear of being useless and forgotten – that kept her from accepting.

     "I'm well enough," she snapped back with a glare.

     He, however, had walked over to the tiny window up at the top and was staring intently upward, his back turned to her.  "We're…we're working on getting you out.  We just need a little more time," he murmured softly.

     "When will that be? When I die?  When I go insane?" Minerva whispered, shivering at the memory of that image

     "We need time."

     "You don't have time, Severus."

      Snape shut his eyes in resignation.  "We're doing the best we can under the circumstances."

      _You're such a liability_.

      A terse silence followed.  Minutes dragged on for what seemed like hours; neither knew what to say.  It was true – one couldn't just break into a dungeon controlled by the Dark Lord and expect easy passage in and out, especially with the Ministry still dubious of the entire situation.

     Faint footsteps could be heard echoing down the hallway.  "You have to leave," she whispered, an expression of alarm on her face as she glanced around the cell quickly, looking for undetected bugs that could have possibly overheard the conversation.

    Snape nodded as he grabbed his mask and swiftly donned it.  "Be brave, Minerva," he said, turning to her one last time before he slipped out of the room.

     The steps disappeared as swiftly as they had come; Minerva assumed that Snape had quietly diffused the situation.  Sending a silent word of thanks to him, she walked over to the bench and sat down.  Talking with Snape had brought out familiar images of home again.  _To wake up at dawn and watch the sun rise…_  

    "Dreaming, my dear?"

    Minerva turned around, startled, and had to struggle to not be violently ill.  The white skull and glaring red eyes of Voldemort were still hard for her to get used to – in fact, she hoped that she would never have to get used to it.  It was hard to imagine that this was Tom…

    "Thinking," she replied after what seemed to be an eternity, banishing the thoughts from her head.

     He laughed, or as much as he could laugh in that form, for it was without warmth or humor.  "Have you decided?" he asked, sobering up as he approached her without hesitation.  

    She detected a hint of impatience in his voice and felt her body tense up.  Was he truly seeking an answer from her right now?   "No…I've hardly any time to think it over…"

     "You've had plenty of time to decide," he snapped, his face contorting in rage, "and now is time to decide."

     _"…for either way you choose you cannot win…you've passed the point of no return…"_

A/N: Wow, I'm mean and lazy.  Flame me now!  The last quote comes from the song "Down Once More…/Track Down This Murderer", which is from _Phantom of the Opera_.  It's actually the conclusion song of the entire musical, so I suggest you not listen to it unless you wish to spoil it for yourself.


	8. Chapter 6

A/N: Many apologies for taking so long to get this chapter out!  It's been hard recently to find any time to write at all ^^.  Just so you know, this chapter picks up right where the 'alternate' version of Chapter 5 leaves off (on ff.net) and where Chapter 5 leaves off on SQ.net and FA.  Thank you all for reading, and please read and review (and flame me XD)!

Chapter 6: Decisions 

"I feel your fingers cold on my shoulder   
Your chilling touch as it runs down my spine   
Watching your eyes as they invade my soul   
Forbidden pleasures I'm afraid to make mine   
At the touch of your hand   
At the sound of your voice   
At the moment your eyes meet mine   
I am out of my mind; I am out of control   
Full of feelings I can't define"

            -- from "Dangerous Game", Jekyll and Hyde

~*~

     For several moments, Minerva found herself unable to utter a noise; what would she have possibly said?  To say 'no' would be a death sentence, but to say 'yes' would close the door to any chance of ever returning to her former life.

     She longed to love, and be loved in return.

     Was it worth giving up her beliefs, her morals, her past and everything she had stood for? 

     And all for a man who has sold his body to become immortal, his soul to become powerful…

     Twiddling his wand lazily, _he_ stood there, awaiting her response.  His lips curved in a mocking smile; his stark white skin created a frighteningly iridescent glow around him: a pure mockery of the angels.

      She bit her lower lip nervously, a habit she had acquired over the years, and glanced up at Voldemort, her emotions carefully masked as she studied him.  His eyes were giant pools of darkness rimmed with crimson - so deep that she felt that she was drowning in them.

     "Minerva?" His voice was softer, gentler.  She could hear Tom in there: _her_ Tom.  Memories of long walks and warm conversations rose to her mind, and she tried to banish them without success.  That wasn't him, couldn't be him…

     "I…I don't know," she whispered, shifting her gaze from him to glance around the room.  The door was slightly ajar.

     In one swift motion, she stood up and broke into a run, heading for the door.  She ran quickly across the room, but he was quicker, grabbing her hand and pulling her away from the illuminated door and shoving her into the wall.  He started to talk, but stopped when he saw the ill-concealed terror frozen on her face.

     "You," he said slowly, "are afraid of me."  

     She bit her lip and turned to the side where the door was still ajar - ajar, but forever locked to her.  "Just…do it," she whispered, turning back to him.   He saw resignation in her dark eyes, mixed with anguish and weariness. 

     One hand still pinning her to the wall, one hand caressing her cheek - ironic to have both sides of him in one gesture - and his voice, his true poison, had ripped into old wounds and left them bleeding. "What would you have me do?" he asked in a low voice.

     A burning anger surged through her veins and, forgetting about her current situation, suddenly burst out furiously, "What do you want me to do?  Jump off a cliff?  It's already bad enough that you've brought me to this miserable place and shredded me to pieces, but now you want me to sign my own death warrant and kill myself?  Fine…go ahead and kill me then.  It's what you've wanted, isn't it?"  She stopped shouting and, standing defiantly opposite Voldemort, took a deep breath and glanced at his expression, expecting anger at her defiance, and then her death.

    But instead, he was studying her closely: he was staring at her, and it unnerved her.  For several heartbeats, for what seemed like an eternity, his steady gaze was trained on her; she had to resist the urge to squirm under his scrutiny, grown witch that she was.  Finally, he broke eye contact and stepped closer to her.   "You are my other side," he murmured, "and I would never willingly kill you."

     She was silent for a long time as she tried to digest what he had just said, and finally, with her hands trembling slightly, she asked, "What would happen...if I decided to join you?"

     "Then, my love, we would be together once more."

     His words, spoken without doubt, without fear - as if it were factual - chilled her to the bone; in the past, Tom had been a very…possessive…lover, but how much more possessive had he become as Lord Voldemort?  She stared up at the lonely little window, and thought of home.  Yes, home…

     He coughed slightly, bringing Minerva back down to earth; back down into the depths of what she affectionately termed 'Hell'.  She would never get to return to Hogwarts, except perhaps as an enemy to her former allies; and if she died here, she would never see it again at all.

      She had left her home once to be with him; would she do it again?  "Tom?"

      "Yes?" he murmured, locking his eyes with hers.

      Her thoughts drifted to another time when he had made the same offer to her.  She remember the regrets she had harbored, the years they had spent together in and out of school before breaking up on uneasy terms with the sudden proposition.  She remembered how it had felt to be loved, worshipped, even.  She remembered the exhilaration that came with the rush of power and knowledge, the excitement in discovering the unknown…

     And that she now had no future elsewhere.

     Was it really that bad to join him?

     _Of course it is.  Not that you ever cared, though._

     But she did care…she did, didn't she?

     Somewhere within her clouded mind, she knew she didn't.

      _Merlin, I'm as bad as he is…___

      The last wall of her defenses crumbled before her.

      Her hand slipped unconsciously into his, and she was surprised when she met with a cold bony grasp instead of the warm hand that she had been accustomed to.  It served as a reminder that while Tom was inside, somewhere, she was inevitably dealing with Lord Voldemort.

     But she had always dealt with Lord Voldemort, in one way or another.  She could handle it.  She would.

     _Don't bite off more than you can chew, you brave, stupid, foolish girl._

     _Go away._

     "Are you sure?" his voice asked.  

     Y_ou don't have a choice_, his eyes said.

      Summoning what shreds of human dignity and pride she had left, she looked him squarely in the face and held his gaze steadily.  "Lead the way," she said.

     "Only for you, my Lady," he replied, guiding her away from the wall and, opening the door with a wave of his hand, guided her step-by-step out of the dank prison and into the hallway.

~*~

A/N: Please read and review, or flame me for this awfully strange plot twist…


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